Page 17 of Entombed In Sin

“Fine,” I concede. If Knox can tamper with the cameras enough that they can’t get hacked and I hide them well enough no one notices, wemightbe alright. Maybe that’s what my brother is banking on. Thatcher has always been the one we defer to when things get tricky. I can’t start doubting him now. “I’ll get the cameras today.”

“Make sure they’re discreet,” Thatcher orders stiffly.

Knox takes a step towards the viewing room. “Good talk guys. I’ll go get the wallpaper damp. Let me know when you get the cameras set up. I’ll make sure they’re secure after that,” Knox says, then bolts before either me or my brother can move.

As Thatcher takes a step toward the hallway, Beatrix has disappeared down, I grab his forearm.

“Wait, we have another problem,” I murmur, keeping my voice low.

Thatcher’s jaw ticks as he turns around to face me again. Through our bond, I can feel the slight shift of apprehension turning to suspicion.

“What is it?” he asks. His eyes flicker toward the room Knox dove into. He’s probably wondering why I didn’t keep Knox around for this.

“It’s Beatrix,” I tell him.

“Yes, brother,I know. I’m going to go talk to her?—”

“That’s only going to make things worse,” I interrupt darkly. “She’s going to strike, Thatcher, and soon. I saw it in her eyes. Right now, she’s dangerous to all of us.”

“You and this snake analogy,” Thatcher sighs before crossing his arms over his chest. “Why do you think this? Because she’s mad at Knox?”

I’m glad my brother doesn’t question my concern. He trusts my instincts just as much as I trust his. It’s why we work so well with one another.

“Knox’s stunt yesterday definitely lit the fuse, I’m sure of it. But something transpired between her and the pastor, adding fuel to the flames. You should’ve heard her after he left. I think whatever was said was her last straw,” I explain. In a lower voice I add, “We need to be more than careful here, Thatcher. We need to be proactive—get ahead of the trouble.”

Thatcher says nothing right away as he mulls over my words. We always knew there was going to be a little trial and error when we added Beatrix to our family unit. We had a fewissueswhen adding Knox into the mix. If we get ahead of the situation, though, things might not get bloody.

Well, no bloodierthan it needs to be.

“Proactive, huh?” Thatcher murmurs. “You want to take her to hunt.”

I nod. “I do.”

“Even though we just found out someone might know we’re behind Trevor’s death?” he asks without judgment or scorn. “This could be a bad idea, Sagan.”

“Things will get worse if we just let her anger fester,” I counter. “We need to rebuild trust with her. Taking her out might mend some of the damage done.”

“Or it might teach our sister how to kill us in our sleep,” Thatcher counters immediately. I don’t see any resentment or true concern in his expression or feel it through our bond. He’s simply stating an undeniable fact.

I shrug. “I think it’s worth the risk.”

Thatcher, again, doesn’t answer immediately. He’s always one to think things through and this time, it’s no different. Drifting from the viewing room comes Knox’s out of tune whistling. It’s the only noise in the otherwise silent building. After a beat, Thatcher sighs—I can feel the resolve settling through our bond.

“Fine, but keep your eyes peeled,” he agrees. He sucks in a deep breath before his brows pinch together. “In the meantime, let’s go see what the pastor said. I left my phone out to record the conversation.”

He takes off before I can respond, his steps quick. I follow after him, glaring at his back.

“Didn’t we just teach Beatrix that we respect each other’s privacy—that we don’tspyon one another?” My question is pointed and chilly.

Thatcher scoffs loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls around us as we head down the hallway. “First of all,youreminding me about our rule is laughable, given how long you hid in the shadows of that house watching her.”

“That was different. She wasn’t one of us yet,” I counter.

My brother laughs without much mirth. “You knew she would be though. In any case, I’m not spying on Beatrix. I’ve been recording all my conversations with clients who’ve come in. I like for Beatrix to listen to them later, if she wasn’t around, to make sure I’ve covered everything with each encounter. It’s called being thorough.”

Thatcher pushes open the office door and we enter. We head for the desk and when we get there, Thatcher brushes some papers away. Beneath them is his phone, still recording. He pauses it and lets the file save. When it’s done, we both sit there and listen.

When the recording ends with Beatrix’s scream, I know my brother and I are on the same page. I can feel his rage mix with mine. Our eyes meet.

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